


Same page

by gonattsaga



Category: Wire in the Blood
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He really respects them, doesn’t he”, she continues, without any further explanation as to what or who she’s talking about, but Kevin won’t bother pretending he doesn’t know exactly anyway, and nods. “It’s like he really gets them, the psychopaths and the killers, like he gets them in a way that he doesn’t get normal people…”</p><p>“Well, he’s a psychologist”, Kevin mutters.</p><p>He doesn’t want to talk about Dr. Hill, not with Paula, not right now. And he doesn’t want to think about earlier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same page

A chilly breeze hits him as he steps outside and he pulls his jacket closed, hugs it in place instead of bothering with the zipper. Glancing across the parking lot, he catches sight of Dr. Hill and he pulls to a stop, watches as the doctor spins around in an absent-minded semi-circle, whilst patting the outside of his pockets. One of his trademark plastic bags swings morosely from one of his wrist. It‘s a blue one. For some reason it makes Kevin want to smile. And when he spots Dr. Hill’s keys dangling from the lock in the car door, he does. The chuckle that wants to follow, however, is abruptly cut off when Paula bumps into him as she walks passed.

“What”, he yelps.

He ignores the impulse to rub his shoulder, but he does makes sure to glare at his partner when she throws him a glance, just to let her know that there’s nothing cute about rugby tackling your partner, no matter how cutely you smile at them afterwards. Although it’s more of a smirk, he notes. And glares a bit harder, but she's already facing away from him again.

He glances over at Dr. Hill again. He’s found the keys, apparently, because he’s now sitting inside his car. But he’s not starting it or driving away. He’s just sitting there. Staring off into space. Thinking. Kevin shakes his head and follows Paula to the car.

Tony Hill is like a child in some ways. Not intellectually, of course. The man is so clever it’s a bit unnerving, at times. But he’s not very street smart, and outside of his freaky profiling tangents, there’s something almost childlike about him. Something sort of innocently empty and open. His mind might be closed, or encrypted, but his face stays open, just like a child’s. Not his eyes though, they’re unfocused, elsewhere.

Even the way he walks, Kevin thinks. Waddling like a toddler. Or like a penguin. He does chuckle to himself this time. Thinking, Yeah, Dr. Hill does sort of resemble a penguin. Especially when he tilts his chin up and looks around him like he has no idea where he is, or how he got there, like he does often enough. Too often.

Paula is still smirking when he climbs into the driver’s seat, and it’s not cute at all. So he decides to ignore her. The image of a Tony-penguin is still waddling around his mind, but he’s not aware of smiling until Paula asks him what’s so funny. He glances over at her.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“He really respects them, doesn’t he”, she continues, without any further explanation as to what or who she’s talking about, but Kevin won’t bother pretending he doesn’t know exactly anyway, and nods. “It’s like he really gets them, the psychopaths and the killers, like he gets them in a way that he doesn’t get normal people…”

“Well, he’s a psychologist”, Kevin mutters.

He doesn’t want to talk about Dr. Hill, not with Paula, not right now. And he doesn’t want to think about earlier.

They hadn’t seen Dr. Hill lose temper like that before, not like that, not during a debriefing, not so coherently, so clearly. Usually, he barely makes sense at all, at least not to Kevin, in his opinion it’s always mind games and symbols and all that other psycho crap and he barely understands half of it, but Tony’s mind jumps all over the place, the marker following suit all over the whiteboard, and it‘s all any of them can do to just keep up. Kevin’s barely seen him show any coherent emotion, come to think it. He’s always off in his own little world, lost in thought, muttering and talking to himself. Usually it sounds like one side of a conversation and makes little sense out of context.

There has been so many times when Kevin’s wished for it, wished to lock eyes with the other man and he’d actually look back, actually see him and not some memorized crime scene photo or a bunch of weird facts. So many times Kevin’s wished for that focus, that clarity to snap into place, to have the doctor’s full attention, even if just for a moment.

And today, Dr. Hill’s eyes were so focused, and so blue, Kevin broke out into a cold sweat as they pinned him to the spot. Just for a moment, he had Dr. Hill’s undivided attention, annoyance, anger. He’d even raised his voice. Dr. Hill never raises his voice, but today he did. And he made all kinds of sense, too. And his eyes were focused.

On me, Kevin thinks. What’s that saying about what you wish for?

Well, he got his wish. And now he feels like he’s broken something. No, stomped on something already broken. In short, he feels like shite. And he wants to take it back, whatever it was, those words, that word, “Nutter”. He hadn’t meant anything by it. Just like he didn’t mean anything by saying “Queer killer” the very first time he met Dr. Hill. He never means anything. He’s blunt on the best of days, rough, brusque even. But around Dr. Hill it’s a whole other level of tactlessness.

It’s like he comes down with a fever every time the psychologist enters the room. Suddenly his face is too hot, his arms are too cold, and there’s a tingling beneath the top layer of his skin that seem to collect behind his eyes, just pools there, like a buzz and it makes it hard to think properly.

So how is he supposed to control what slips out of his mouth when he can barely get his lips to work in the first place?

“Don’t worry about it”, Paula says.

Kevin hmphs in reply. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. Not with her, not with anyone. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

He just wants to get on with the case. Solve it. Get the bastard before he kills again. He doesn’t have the patience for any of the other stuff. Feelings and talk about them, stuff like that.

“Turn right up ahead”, Paula says.

He’d just end up feeling like a right prat if he ever tried it, anyway. Talking about his feelings, these feelings, if that’s what they are. Just thinking about the stuff makes him itch. And anyway, he doesn’t want to think about it, either.

“Kev”, Paula says.

And he doesn’t want to think about the debriefing. About putting his foot in his mouth. About Tony snapping at him. Tony probably isn’t thinking about it, him. He’s probably forgot about the whole thing already.

The image of the doctor sitting in his car, thinking, flickers by, but Kevin decides to ignore it.

“Kevin! I said turn right, now we have to turn around-!”

“Sorry”, he mutters. “Look, I‘ll make a U-turn after this car, okay…”

All he ever wanted was to be a good officer. A want that’s turned into raw need ever since Dr. Hill first joined their team, for some reason that Kevin doesn’t want to investigate too closely.

“You really need to let it go”, Paula says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I found lying around on my computer, that I'd meant to keep writing on at one point. I just had an idea for a new Tony/Kevin fic, though, and rather focus on writing that, so I'll just leave this as is, for now. But I might continue it later on.


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